I remember being outside building some planter boxes when my wife told me John and Julia were missing. I didn't know what she meant by missing and wasn't aware of the magnitude of the Hill Country flooding at that time. She said both our daughters had tried calling them to see if they were ok. I came inside and did some reading about the flooding and knew that the eventual news was not going to be good.
So I went back to work. I was using western red cedar, I knew it would stand up to rain and the elements. I do not know how well it will stand up to sweat nor how well it will stand up to tears, because it got plenty of both. Once the final two were built, I got on the mower. Often dust will get in my eyes when mowing (I wear contacts) and I have to stop for a bit until I can see well again. That day it wasn't dust in my eyes that made me stop. Working helped get my mind off it, if only for brief instances.
I am not sure why this has been so hard to deal with for me. Losing parents was painful, losing one brother was as well. Not that I am alone with those losses, they impact us all. Maybe it was the closeness of that family to my children and grandchildren, maybe it was a whole family (but one) being lost at the same time, and knowing we won't see them, or hear their voices again, here on earth. Was just as if they were yanked from our presence. And perhaps the regret for not having spent ten more minutes here, or ten more minutes there, talking to them when the occasion arose. Ten minutes we cannot spend now. When I go to parties or gatherings, if food is served, I often will offer to hold a small child so that the dad and mom can eat without wrestling with a child. So they can mix and mingle for a half hour or an hour with a little freedom. I remember at a birthday party at my oldest daughter's house getting to do that with their youngest boy. John walked over a few times and asked if I was ok, I suppose not wanting to impose, and my reply was that I was never better.
I did not attend the funeral yesterday, someone mentioned the four coffins. That would have been tough to see. We had a memorial service at our church this morning. I looked up two pews in front of where my wife and I almost always sit, over to the left where John and Julia and Jenna and Jack sit, sometimes with James, sometimes he was in the nursery. I wondered if the folks sitting in their "spot" today knew that was where the family sat for all those years.
Many times the kids that are friends with my grandchildren will migrate to where we sit. My wife always has little baggies with gummies or goldfish or some sort of snack, note pads, things to write with. But today, everyone remained in their places. The service was very nice, the music was perfect. We have this huge pipe organ and hymns are so much nicer than if only a piano is present.
O, friends in gladness let us sing
Supernal anthems echoing
Alleluia, Alleluia
To God the Father, God the Son
And God the Spirit, Three in One
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia
After communion, I saw one of my granddaughters and Jenna hugging in the aisle and then they slid in beside me, my wife wound up at the other end of the pew. It was an emotional moment. At our church, after the recessional, the rector squats at the back of the church so he is on the same level as the children and the children of the church all gather round him, in a semicircle, and all help him say the dismissal. It is always a sweet moment to me, more so today than usual.
Our lives will eventually return to normal, those of us who were friends of the family. I couldn't help but thinking about Jenna's life though, the loss she has suffered. And I thought about the lives of those of you who have lost a family member. I wish God's blessings on you and wish I could do more than that.
Time for me to get on a tractor or mower or something.
